More
by ASecretHistory
Summary: Darvey fic, after the season 6 finale. Follow on from the "I want something more" conversation.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hi, guys! This is a post Season 6 finale fic. I wanted to try and make this story a little more … "realistic", than what I presume will happen with Harvey and Donna in the series. I want these characters to actually think through what it is they want and I want them to actually talk things through like freaking _Grown Ups_. I hope that that doesn't sound too boring! Anyway, this will be in two parts. I hope you enjoy it!

 **More: Part 1 - Harvey**

" _I want something more. And I've never said that out loud, but I can't pretend that's not true anymore."_

 _Tears, hurt, desperation. Eyes fixed on each other._

" _What do you mean more?" he had asked quietly, the words slipping involuntarily from his lips as though by some magnetic pull, even though he was scared shitless of her answer._

" _I don't know," she had half whispered, eyes narrowed in contemplation and tears leaking gently from her eyelids. "I guess I'm going to have to figure that out."_

 _And in the same moment, their gazes broke from each other, their pain too much to share._

x x x

Harvey was left to pour himself a shaky glass of Scotch after she left, his office feeling suddenly emptier than ever without her. Suffocatingly empty.

He felt as though she was leaving him all over again.

He couldn't quite get a grasp on his thoughts, a worrying echo of his panic attacks from all those months ago. Weightlessness except for a concentrated heaviness in his chest threatening to overwhelm him, but he kept a grip on it. After all, she _wasn't_ actually leaving him.

At least, not yet.

But he felt the sickening inevitability of it, one that he had almost been waiting for ever since she had come back to him. Because the truth of it was that they had not actually dealt with what had driven them apart in the first place. It had more or less been swept under the rug. And sure, that had made sense at the beginning. They had been focused on saving Mike from prison, and then getting Mike out of prison.

But now … there was none of that to distract them. Now everything unspoken between them had plenty of room to well up and ruin it all.

Then again, he didn't even know if that was the issue. In fact, it seemed that it wasn't. It seemed that this was more career orientated. She wanted more than being a secretary? Was that it?

It wasn't a comforting thought. Whichever way he looked at it, she _was_ telling him that she wanted more than what he was offering her, whether it be career-wise or relationship-wise.

His head was still reeling and he poured a second glass.

Thoughts slipped confusedly in and out of his mind, but one idea kept intruding unsettlingly. It was the deep knowledge that when he had asked her what she had meant, he had been fully prepared for her to tell him that she wanted more with _him_ , romantically speaking.

A response that, oddly, he thought he would have found far less stressful than the threat-like response she had provided instead. Less stressful because in the moment, within his frozen and terrified state, there had also been a giddy sweeping sensation of _this is it, this is the moment_.

He had known then that had she asked for more with him, he would have given it to her.

x x x

"Things have been different since she came back," he told Dr Agard quietly.

Mike's success with the bar now secured, Harvey could no longer ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest along with the echoing memory of "I want something more" running through the back of his mind over and over again with the fierce determination of the Small World song. And so, for the first time in months, he went to see Dr Agard again.

After opening with, "I think Donna's going to leave me again," he had caught her up on the bullet points of the last several months (which had taken much longer than he had intended, especially when it came to recounting his reunion with his mother) and had finally reached the reason he was here.

"In what way?"

He was feeling odd. Simultaneously discomfited and relieved to be speaking to her again. Usually, of course, it was Donna he turned to when he felt the most distressed. But when it came to his feelings _for_ Donna, he needed another outlet.

"We've been … closer, I think," he said, and then frowned slightly at himself. "Well, maybe not closer. I'm not sure. At the beginning, we definitely weren't, and I felt as though she was going to leave me again at any moment."

"But she didn't."

"No."

"Did you ever ask her about that?"

The squirming feeling in his stomach reminded him of how much he didn't enjoy therapy.

"No."

"Why not?"

He tossed her an annoyed look. He didn't know why she always insisted on asking questions she already knew the answers to. It only prolonged the process, as far as he was concerned. Donna would have gotten to the point ages ago.

"Because," he said impetuously.

She returned his irritation.

"We're not going to go through this all over again, are we?" she demanded. "You're here to talk, so you need to talk."

He let out a frustrated breath through his teeth.

"I didn't want to mess with anything," he said, still faintly vexed. "Why ask questions I don't want the answers to?"

"So, you assumed the answer would be that she _was_ intending on leaving you again?"

"She only came back to help me with Mike."

"Except she's still with you?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "And it's since then that we've been closer again. It felt as though she was back for good."

"And you didn't want to, what? Put ideas in her head?"

It took him a few moments to be able to admit, "Sort of."

She raised her eyebrows at him. He rolled his eyes in response and then expanded by saying, "I just didn't want to bring up past hurts again, you know. We were healing and finding a new dynamic."

"And what dynamic is that?"

This also took some time to respond to, mainly because it was sort of the whole point of his coming here and yet it was the most difficult for him to say out loud.

"Well," he finally said slowly, "like I said, to me it seems as though we've been getting closer, somehow. It's not quite like it used to be, but at the same time, it's … I don't know, I can't find the words." He shook his head in exasperation and looked to her for help. However, she seemed to choose this moment not to say anything. The fact was, he did have the words, but he was struggling to form them.

With a heavy sigh, he said, "I think I've been a bit less … resistant … to becoming closer to her."

"Less resistant or less afraid?"

He bit his lip, chewing on the words jumbling on the tip of his tongue.

"I guess a bit of both. I'm still … so scared of losing her. I mean, that's why I'm here now. But on the other hand, for the past few months, I've been feeling almost … ready. Ready to try something, despite how frightening it is."

His chest felt constricted with this admission.

Dr Agard was saying nothing.

But, despite the clumsiness of his confession, now that it was out there, he suddenly felt the rush of words and feelings crash from his lips like the release of a dam.

"I almost feel like ever since she left me, every moment since then I've actually been working on getting to a point where I can give her what she wants. I want to be what she needs me to be, because she's always been there for me. And everything you and I talked about, the way things are with Donna and me now, seeing my mom, it feels to me like these past few months I've been on this path towards being the kind of man who could possibly be in a relationship with her."

The words were flying out, soaring gratefully out into the universe, free from years of confinement.

"Because, I guess, going back to what started all of this … when I told her I loved her, of course I meant that I'm in love with her."

He hadn't expected that last part, somehow, and it shut him up, leaving a ringing silence.

"Wow," said Dr Agard.

Harvey buried his head in his hands, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

"I don't suppose she knows any of this?"

"No," he said into his palms, the word getting caught in the sticky moisture that was currently covering them. He forced himself to look up.

"The thing is, I'm still on that road. I don't know if I'm quite there yet."

"So, tell me what's happening now."

He explained briefly about The Donna and then, with difficulty, recounted the conversation they had had in his office a few nights back.

There was a pause as she seemed to think things over, and then she unexpectedly gave a little sigh.

"What?" he asked, anxiety flooding his chest.

She was studying him with a confusing expression on her face. It seemed somehow both pleased and saddened.

"I think, Harvey, that you really don't need to be here," she said gently.

He blinked at her in surprise.

"You've grown a tremendous amount since I last saw you. Now, I'm not saying you have everything under control, and we'll get to that in a minute, but I do think that you have learned what you came to me to learn. And I really think that, even though you came to me now, it's only because you feel unable to talk to Donna about this out of habit, more or less."

He was hanging on to her every word, still as the night.

"Which leads me to my final insight that I want to share. I think you know perfectly well that the only answer to this is to sit down and have a proper honest conversation with Donna, something that I think you are willing to do, if you can only control your fear. Which is essential, because the truth of the matter is that your fear is distracting you from the real problem here. Which is not that Donna wants to leave you again – something you don't even know to be the case - but that she is going through a very difficult time and she needs you to be there for her."

He swallowed.

"She told you about this because she needs your support, Harvey, just like when she supported you when you went to see your mother, when Jessica left, when you almost turned yourself in for Mike. She is asking for your help. What I'm trying to say, to be rather frank, is that this is about _Donna_ , not about you. And if you really do want to reach the end of this road, and get to a point where you can be in a relationship with her, then you had better learn to support her rather than forever only focusing on protecting yourself."

The silence that followed this was the longest yet, because it had made him feel decidedly shitty about himself, and he was controlling the impulse to take this out on her. But he finally managed to clear his head enough to know that it was true. That once again, the problem was that, essentially, he was being selfish. And Donna didn't deserve that.

"All right," he muttered.

"And lastly, she needs to be the one you turn to, Harvey. Even when – no – _especially_ when whatever it is you're grappling with is to do with her."

Then he looked at her properly.

"Thank you," he said and she gave him a small smile, one that was, despite everything, filled with affection. He returned it.

Because they both knew that this was goodbye.

x x x

He knocked lightly on Donna's door and waited, feeling apprehensive to say the least.

When she opened it, he could see that she had been crying. It wasn't wildly obvious. Her eyes weren't swollen or bloodshot, and there was no splodged makeup. But there was just something in the exhaustion and slight emptiness in her eyes that he recognised from the few horrifying times he had seen her cry. It made his heart drop like a stone.

He hitched a smile onto his lips with difficulty.

She looked startled to see him and her eyebrows creased downwards.

He held up the pizza from her favourite pizzeria and a bottle of unnecessarily expensive wine that was obviously far superior to his chosen cuisine, and said, "Girl talk?"

To his relief, her eyes suddenly cleared and she laughed, one of his favourite sounds. Also a sound he didn't hear nearly enough. She smirked a lot, but rarely laughed.

She let him in, which in truth surprised him a little. After the disastrous _Incident_ the last time they had shared a meal at her apartment, they had been extremely careful about getting too relaxed with each other in such a private setting. He had expected to have to argue his way onto her couch. He supposed she was a little too distracted at this point, which was something of a relief.

He wanted to try his utmost, primarily, to be a good friend to her, and he hadn't wanted to start that off by making her uncomfortable. He was focusing most of his energy on controlling his fear. He was going to be the friend, the partner, she deserved, no matter how uncomfortable this conversation was going to get for him.

He owed her that.

Wine was poured, the pizza box opened ("Mm, gorgonzola," she said in delight. "Only on your half," he retorted, "so pay attention to your slices.").

Then he took a breath and delivered his carefully rehearsed line:

"Listen. The reason I'm here is because I know you're having a hard time right now and, if you want to, I'm here to talk about it with you."

She looked tremendously surprised and swallowed her mouthful of pizza.

"Really?" she asked, her smirk back in place. "You actually came for girl talk?"

He rolled his eyes. Then he sighed and forced himself to bypass the opening she was giving him to use humour as a defensive tactic.

"No," he said softly. "I came for an honest conversation."

The teasing look in her eyes faded and she looked suddenly nervous.

"About what?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

Carefully refusing to break eye contact, he murmured, "About whatever you want."

She blinked at him. He could see that she had her doubts, to say the least.

"I mean it, Donna. Anything."

x x x

 **TBC**

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! I'd really love to hear what you think, especially since trying to make Harvey more mature _and_ keep him in character was a real struggle for me. Part 2 will be from Donna's perspective and will be up in the next couple of days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Ugh sorry for the delay. Sometimes work just rears its ugly head and unexpectedly kicks one in the ass for a couple of weeks. And I really wanted to try and be careful with this story, do the whole thing justice, and it just didn't feel right while I was all tense and distracted. But anyway, thank you all for your reviews and your patience! Really, they mean so much!

So on with Part 2 of what will actually be a 3 Part story after all … I hope you enjoy it!

 **More: Part 2 - Donna**

Donna was about as uncertain about her life as she had ever been.

Her charm and self-confidence had taken her far in life so far and, probably more than her level of competence – exceptional as that may be - were likely the reason she was the most sought after legal secretary in New York (if she did say so herself). She prided herself in that. Everything she had tried, barring one or two exceptions, had worked out for her.

She supposed, fairly, that she had Harvey's support to thank for that in some cases, but for the most part, she was capable, exceptional and respected completely thanks to her own merit.

Or so she had thought.

The whole situation with The Donna had made her see herself in a very different light, a light she was distinctly unhappy with.

What _was_ she doing with her life?

She had wanted to be an actress. She couldn't even honestly say she was a failed actress, because she had never truly tried to be one. Never truly tried to be anything. The whole legal secretary thing was supposed to be a stepping stone, a safety net. The problem was that she was too good at it. Her natural gifts of perceptiveness and networking had allowed her to excel all too easily.

She was also a naturally hard worker, and the more she excelled at her job, the more determined she became to be the best. She worked longer hours, dedicated more of her energy and became inexplicably devoted to her new life. She forgot, essentially, her dream. And the few times she had remembered over the years, she had thought faintly that perhaps it had been a lost dream after all. The dream of a child.

But now, she couldn't help but wonder. Was being a top notch legal secretary so simple for her because she was throwing herself into something that was, for lack of a better way of thinking, below her level of potential? What if she _had_ been destined for something else after all? Something more?

Of course, it was basically all Harvey's fault. Had she gone to work for anyone else, this would not have happened. Although … she had approached _him_ … so perhaps it was her fault after all. The point was that it was because of him that being a legal secretary had gone from a convenient way to make money on the side to a full-blown career.

The thing of it was that she had always accepted that this was her choice in the end. That she had chosen to follow him into high powered corporate law. And it wasn't as though she had been unhappy with her choice. It was exciting and challenging and satisfying. It also paid extremely well. She could afford to dress in style, eat at expensive restaurants and go to Broadway shows whenever she wanted. She went to high class events and rubbed shoulders with the likes of Patti Lupone and Michael Jordan. It was a life that suited her.

And working with Harvey … it was just plain fun. How many people got to spend all day working with one of their closest friends? But, of course, he was also the biggest problem in her choice. He was the reason she was now questioning everything, and yet not coming up with a reasonable answer.

Sure, they had fun working together. Plenty of it. And they worked very _well_ together, no-one could deny it. But they had become something much more than could be considered healthy, given their particular situation. They had become a team and their lives had meshed together too intensely.

His career became her career. His goals became her goals. His life became her life.

And now she was sitting here, trying to remember who she was without him.

x x x

She didn't know who to talk to about this. She disliked admitting doubts about her life to her mother and she didn't want to worry her father. She _could_ talk to Rachel, but Rachel had her own problems right now, worrying about Mike's hearings with the bar. And somehow, she had never felt all that comfortable discussing Harvey with Rachel anyway. She couldn't talk to Harvey either. Especially not him, considering everything they had been through.

She didn't want to upset him.

But, well, perhaps it was not shocking that in the end it _was_ him that she finally blurted out the thought to, the thought that had been tormenting her for the last few weeks. Hell, perhaps months. In fact, it had likely already been sneaking around her subconscious for years, finally beginning to poke its nose out the surface around the time she had left him.

That thought, whispered and unspoken, nothing but a shadow flitting away in the night. A spectral curl of smoke that had suddenly and unexpectedly solidified into something tangible and sharp. And had then fallen out of her lips, landing between them, loud and heavy and impossible to ignore.

 _I want something more._

It had been one of those short moments between them when all their walls and pretences and fears evaporated, and suddenly it was just _them_ , friends and partners, sharing themselves with each other. It had also been particularly short because the truth of it was, she disliked being emotionally on display even more than he did.

He had asked her what she meant and she had immediately clammed up, iron gate clanging back into place.

And he _was_ upset. She could see it, despite her own tears. Almost a mirrored look of horror as when she had walked away from him all those months ago. She could hardly bear it. So, she tried to look as reassuring as possible while simultaneously making a hasty escape.

Her mind hadn't stopped racing since then, the tears hadn't stopped leaking, and even though they hadn't talked about it again, his hollow eyes hadn't stopped boring into her dreams.

x x x

It was one of those unsettling evenings where the weather couldn't seem to make up its mind. Restless and constantly shifting from overcast to patchy, from still to blustering, occasionally splattering rain moodily at the windows and then changing its mind again. It was affecting her mood as well, and she found herself wandering her flat purposelessly, picking up a magazine and discarding it a few moments later, gazing dispiritedly at her sparsely populated fridge every ten minutes and picking up the phone to call someone (her mother, her father, Rachel) and then hanging up before she was done dialling.

When Harvey materialised at her door, well armed with gorgonzola pizza and wine, she had been too relieved at the company to think things through very much. She was tired, having been battling indecision and self-doubt through several sleepless nights. She had taken his advice and had taken the money for The Donna, but it had left her feeling empty and aimless. She was tired of it all and was keen for a good laugh.

Unfortunately, it seemed that laughter wasn't why he had come.

 _I came for an honest conversation_.

Was he serious? _Now_? He, Harvey Specter, had decided completely out of the blue that it was time for an Honest Conversation. Did he have any idea how dangerous that could be for them? Where did he think it would lead? And, more importantly, where did he _want_ it to lead?

She was far too tired for this.

She elected, at first, to avoid talking about anything serious.

"Can we … just eat pizza and watch something for now?" she had asked doubtfully.

His eyebrows had creased together ever so slightly. It seemed her reluctance was unexpected to him, which she guessed was fair enough. She pushed him to talk about his problems so much that he probably had never noticed that she hardly ever offered up her own feelings. But he shrugged and said, "Sure, yeah. If you don't want to talk, that's up to you."

She reached for the remote, feeling self-conscious and unsettled under his studious gaze. God, was this how she made him feel all the time?

She flicked aimlessly through some channels and landed on The Bachelor. This made her feel better … whatever she was doing with her life, at least she wasn't on some reality show battling it out against twenty desperate women trying to score the attention of some barely passable specimen of a man.

"Why did you stop on this?"

He was annoyed and it pleased her.

"You not a fan?" she asked, mock confusion on her face.

He gave her such a stormy gaze that she found herself laughing again.

"Come on, pretend you're the lucky guy. Who gets your rose?"

His mouth curled in distaste as he watched one of the blonde ones simper and toss her hair three times in quick succession.

"Change it to something else," he insisted crossly.

"But what if The Bachelor is what I want to talk about?" she challenged, eyebrows raised.

Clearly not accepting this, he wrested control of the remote from her by making a quick grab for it.

She let out a puff of air in feign irritation and tried not to look as though she was enjoying herself.

He flipped disinterestedly through a few more channels, paused on a baseball game for a minute, and then abruptly turned it off.

"You're afraid," he said unexpectedly.

She turned to stare at him. He looked so serious, studying her closely, eyes wide and black, seeing her far too clearly.

"Afraid of what?" she challenged, eyebrows raised, trying to turn things back on him.

It wasn't going to work tonight.

He was on a mission.

"I've been thinking about myself too much," he said, and he looked as though he was articulating a thought that had only just occurred to him. "And I'm always so afraid that I assumed it was just me, but … it isn't. You're as scared as I am."

"Of _what_?" she asked again, starting to get legitimately irritated now, although she wasn't sure why.

"Of telling me what you're feeling."

A silence stretched between them as she found herself at a loss for words. It had decided to start raining again and the wind blew splattering drops against the windows in chaotic bursts.

"What is with you tonight?" she said with a forced smirk, an attempt to regain control that even she recognised as feeble. She began to realise that the only reason she had been able to divert him in the past was because he was willing to be diverted. Now he wasn't and she was floundering in the face of his determination.

" _I_ am trying to be a better friend," he responded, his voice prickly. "What about _you_ , Donna?"

The way he dropped her name at the end was strange. It was challenging, harsh, yet … almost coaxing. She fluttered her eyes in consternation and squirmed in her spot on the sofa. Her emotions were suddenly roaring to life in her chest, crashing desperately against her pursed lips like waves in a storm.

His gaze was steady and fixed, trapping her, and she felt a clutching retching feeling in her throat. The last time she had felt like this had been all those years ago when Louis had humiliated her at that mock trial.

 _Do you love Harvey Specter? The loudest voice on the planet, booming, echoing out into the universe. Do you love Harvey Specter? All eyes on her, her defences stripped away, her confused feelings strewn out in the open for everyone to see, for Harvey's eyes to see._

"What are you so scared of?" he asked now, his voice a fraction softer, but still unforgiving in its pursuit for truth.

"Why are you doing this?" she found herself asking and she hated the way the words sounded. Pleading, as though he had uncovered her dearest treasure and was threatening to destroy it.

A muscle was jumping in his jaw. This wasn't easy for him either.

"Because, you would do the same for me."

A longer silence, the rain outside committing more to its cause, as she tried to force herself to say the words she didn't want spoken out loud.

"I'm … scared of the same thing you are," she said at last.

She hoped he would accept that, but his stony-faced stare told her he wouldn't. That she had to say more.

The tables were turned.

When she had left him, before, she had forced herself to tell him that she loved him. It hadn't been easy by a long chalk. She had had to force the words out. But what had made it possible at the time was the fact that she knew he would take it as the consolation, as the apology she had meant it to be. True, of course, but taken as simply as it had been presented. I do love you, even though I'm leaving you. She was also sure he had barely heard it.

But now he was listening to her every word, her every movement, her every thought, and she hated it. Loathed it. She knew he could see her better than anyone else if he wanted to. They were too similar and now that he was realising exactly _how_ similar, she was no longer safe in her anonymity.

"You have to say it," he said at last.

She wanted to demand why again, wanted to change the subject even though she barely understood what the subject was. It wasn't something that was easily defined. He was talking about everything and so was she.

"I'm afraid of losing you."

There, she had said it, and somehow the spell seemed to break. The rain stopped suddenly again and she felt exposed and stupid, like she had answered the wrong question.

She had torn her eyes away from his, but he suddenly leaned urgently towards her. His hands were shaking.

"Donna," he said, the word sounding as though it was tripping out of his mouth.

She looked back up at him. She could see he was trying desperately to find the words he needed to voice whatever thoughts were racing through his head.

"Harvey-" she began, but then she stopped. She didn't know how exactly, but she suddenly knew what it was he had been trying to tell her all evening. Understood what it was he was unable to say, and it was exactly what had been haunting her recently. Once more, she was sitting here, trying to figure out the right way to handle this, the right way to keep their equilibrium.

But what for?

She was no longer interested in this equilibrium, but the problem was that she didn't know where she wanted it to shift to. And still, _still_ , she was trying to come up with an answer that would work for both of them.

But …

She also had a right to want things, to feel things, to ask for things.

"It's your turn," he said, as though he had been listening in on her thoughts with the same casual freedom that she listened in on his intercom. "All this time, you've been putting me first. And I think that's what you mean when you say you want more. I think you mean more than me, but you're too afraid to say so."

She stared.

This whole situation was making her feel drunk and lightheaded, although she had had barely half a glass of the wine.

He was also looking pale and, frankly, terrified.

Another silence sat tiresomely between them.

And she made a decision with the same sudden disregard of someone leaping out of an aeroplane.

It was now or never.

x x x

"Yes," she said.

He swallowed and she swallowed, but the world around them had dissolved, negligible as an old wives' tale.

"I want more than what we are now. I don't want to be a legal secretary forever. I want more for my life because I think I can have more. I don't want to keep putting myself after you. I want to learn who I can be … who I am, in fact. And …"

It was just them, staring at each other, united in mutual fear.

And finally that errant certainty that she had been resolutely ignoring and denying and trampling for years and years blossomed up into being, and its timing was such that the moment it made itself known to her consciously, it also slipped out of her lips.

"And I am in love with you, just like you are with me, and what I really want is for us to stop pretending it isn't true."

She realised she was crying.

He was mute and frozen before her, but his eyes were oddly clear.

His hand stretched forward and took hers. A small gesture that meant so much. She didn't know what else to say, because the truth of it was that, further from there, she didn't know what it was that she wanted. The prospect of a romantic commitment with him was frightening as well as wonderful and she didn't know if either of them was ready. But what she did know was that she was tired of the secrets.

"I want us to decide together," she finished at last.

He blinked and swallowed and nodded and finally, finally, spoke, his voice faint and croaky.

"All right, Donna. We won't pretend anymore."

Even through her own swooping confusion, she couldn't help but marvel at how it was he was managing to handle this.

"You deserve more. For yourself and from me. And I am in love with you, and you are in love with me."

The air itself seemed to crack with stillness.

"So," she said, her voice seeming to scratch the smooth silence. "What now?"

He was ready for that.

"You tell me."

x x x

 **TBC**

 **Author's Note:** It was just too much for one chapter, I think. I struggled with this bit far more than I expected as well, but I really hope it was worth the wait. I have already written a fair amount of the next (last) part and it's going much easier so it'll be done soon soon. Thank you so much for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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